


Macchiato

by aquilagrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Barista!Harry, CEO!Tom Riddle, Fluff, M/M, Nobody knows, Romance, Slash, idk where I'm going with this, is there even a plot, oh well, probably too much fluff, someone help me, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilagrey/pseuds/aquilagrey
Summary: Harry knew opening a cafe in the upscale part of town would inevitably attract a different crowd, but he wasn't quite expecting the CEO of Riddle Technologies to come around. Nor was he expecting him to stay. Or be so...attractive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long time and I haven't written slash before, so this is definitely a first for me. This idea has been stuck in my head for a while and it just won't leave. This means you get a lot of fluff, romance, and off-characterization, so if that's not your thing, then you might as well stop here. As of now, this is meant to be a relatively short story. I really don't know where it's going hahaha.
> 
> I'm just writing for my personal enjoyment and figured I'd share it with you in case you'd enjoy it, too! 
> 
> This is un-beta'ed. Aka spelling and grammar mistakes everywhere.

"In two months, Riddle Technologies will celebrating its 10th anniversary with a charity event. The details have not been released, but their spokesperson, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, has assured the press that it will be an unprecedented and grand affair! We at the Daily Prophet have no doubts that it will be the event of the year, and we will keep you updated as more news comes out! 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle, CEO of Riddle Technologies, has come a long way from his humble beginnings. Over the past decade, he has revolutionized the pharmaceutical front through his breakthroughs in cancer treatments that seem to 'defy death'. Indeed, their crowning drug, colloquially known as the Death Eater, has changed the treatment and even patient care scene since it finished clinical trials two years ago. Named Top 30 under 30 when he was only 21 years old, Mr. Riddle has always been a star in the business world. His perseverance and strict policies have greatly accelerated the time it takes for his drugs to enter the market, and for the better of our healthcare system!

“Surely, we can only expect bigger and better things as time passes - this reporter believes that Riddle Technologies will soon be a common household name! That's all we have for now. This is Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet. Have a good morning!"

"Bloody hell," Ron said, taking his eyes off the television as the morning advertisements began to play.

The high pitched squealing from the steam wand stopped as Harry twisted the knob off and removed the milk-frothing jug. "Sorry, what was that?" 

"D'you ever get the feeling that people around our age are so much more successful than us?"

Harry lightly tapped the bottom of the jug against the counter before slowly pouring it into the cup beside him. "Every damn day. What do you think I'm doing right now? I have a degree, but no relevant job. Instead, I'm serving coffee to – well, you," he replied in exasperation. “No one else even comes here.” Satisfied with the curving leaf he created, Harry slid the coffee cup towards Ron. 

"Thanks, mate," Ron grinned, blowing on the foamy layer before taking a sip. "Hey, I didn't mean it in that way, though. But damn, I don't know why you're so set on a job in design when you could make big bucks selling your coffee like this! I know you only took over this place after Sirius passed and ‘cause you don’t have anything else to do right now, but you could probably turn it around if you cleaned it up a bit and stuff."

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "It's a ghost town in here."

"That's because Sirius used to serve literal motor oil and everyone knew it - the kind of shit desperate college students buy before finals. Or his friends. Whatever – his reputation is still attached to this place. Look, it even looks like a mechanic's garage here or those sketchy pubs that Seamus and Dean like to go to. People in this area wouldn't go here for a coffee even if you put a neon ‘free coffee’ sign outside the door."

"Did Hermione put you up to this?" Harry asked wryly.

Ron's sheepish expression told Harry everything he needed to know. "Okay maybe she did, but you know she's right! She said this shop is actually in a really upscale area and there's a ton of corporations around that could give you business."

 "I guess I can see what she means. There's a lot of foot traffic on the streets..." Harry absently wiped the espresso machine down. 

"Think of all the slimy businessmen out on their coffee breaks you could take money from," Ron grinned. "It'd be brilliant!"

Harry laughed. "Don't tempt me!"

"It's true!"

"Alright, alright, I'll think about it."

"You better, otherwise Hermione isn't gonna stop bothering me to bother you about it and I'd like a quiet evening for once, thanks." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure, okay. Only bother me for your own peace of mind." 

"You know what I mean! And you know you made the best coffee on campus, so it would work. Really. If it gets Hermione to shut up, that’s a bonus. Haha, don’t tell her I said that, though… Anyway, I think I gotta get back to training." Ron downed the rest of his cup. "Moody's picking on us just ‘cause we’re new recruits, I swear."

"Yeah, try not to trip over anything again, and maybe he’ll stop giving you a hard time," Harry smirked.

"Hey, that was one time -"

"And by the way, it's five past. Didn’t your break end at ten?”

"Shit! Why didn’t you say so earlier!? I'm gonna be late!" Harry watched as Ron scrambled out of his seat.

“You have a coffee stain on your collar!” Harry’s amused voice chased the redhead out the door. Moody would probably go haywire on Ron - not just for being late, but for getting food stains on his uniform for the second time this week. 

The cafe was now empty. Harry walked around the counter and sat at one of the tables, rubbing his glasses with the corner of his apron and replacing the pair on his face. He looked across the room where crooked picture frames and various motorcycle paraphernalia decorated the dark, stained brown walls. The counters were made of a splintering, old wood, and the tables and chairs were rickety and didn't sit evenly on the chipped floor tiles. An old TV was propped up on a table in the corner of the room facing away from the windows, and the windows themselves were cloudy with a layer of dust and grime. It looked more like a teenage boy's basement hangout than a coffee shop, but knowing Sirius, Harry wasn't surprised at all.

Sirius had been a large part of his childhood, taking him in after Harry's parents died in a car crash when he was only one-year-old. His godfather had taken him in, fed and raised him, and encouraged him to go out and have fun regardless of what he had to do for school. In retrospect, that sounded irresponsible, but Harry had turned out well regardless and graduated from Hogwarts University even if he wasn't doing anything with his degree now. His grades had wavered after Sirius had passed away from cancer at the end of his first year in university. It had been extremely difficult at the time, but Harry had learned to cope and eventually came to terms with his death. At the time, the cancer had been untreatable, but a few years after the entire ordeal, a breakthrough had been discovered…just too late for Sirius.

One of Sirius' favourite past times had included running this cafe. It didn't net him any profit, but the people that frequented it had kept him entertained after he reduced his hours at the police force due to injuries. He served cheap coffee and cookies from the local grocery store and watched football games on the telly with his police force friends when they were on break, only having the traditional coffee equipment for appearances sake. Occasionally, he would get a few strangers passing through for a caffeine kick, but it was mostly a friends and family haunt. Harry thought of it as an overpriced hangout, but it made his godfather happy so he never mentioned anything about it.

After Sirius passed away, the cafe was shut down. Harry ended up inheriting it along with a few other things, but had been too busy with grieving and school to check it out. It wasn't until a few months after his graduation that he began looking into the cafe, spurred by his lack of a job and the thought of reconnecting with his godfather somehow. He had been shocked after a visit to the bank: what had begun as a purchase in a slightly underdeveloped area of downtown had turned into some prime real estate in the years after. 

Maybe a renovation and re-branding really would help the place; Hermione might have had the right idea. Harry had thought of it before, of course, but at the time he had been looking for jobs and staying at the cafe was more of a way to pass time than anything. Maybe a small part of him was still attached to this place, like it was his last piece of Sirius, too. The idea was growing on him the longer he sat there. His design major had nothing to do with the job, but why did it matter if he enjoyed what he was doing?

Harry had been a barista at an upscale campus coffee shop a while back, so he did have the experience. Ron seemed to like his coffee, at least. What kind of beans did he use back then? He could contact them and negotiate a partnership or something. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

He also knew a few fantastic pastry recipes from his mom's cook book Sirius had given him in high school since he had gotten into baking. There were muffins, croissants, and cookies, from what he could remember. He would have to try the recipes out again and check online to see if there was anything good there, too.

Of course, no one was going to enter the place if he didn’t change the look of it. Harry ran a meticulous eye over the furniture and appliances. It was no good. Everything would have to go. Nothing in the café currently even suited the feel that this part of town should have, and it would already be an uphill battle attracting new customers. Maybe this would involve some design after all. But what would the theme be?

A dull shine in the corner of the café attracted his attention. Harry stood up and walked over – it was Sirius’ old, broken-down motorcycle. Harry felt nostalgic as he recalled memories of Sirius’ bark-like laughter, revving the engine and speeding down the streets with Harry clinging onto the back of his leather jacket.

_“I call this baby the Marauder – you know why, Harry? When your dad and I were in school, we’d always play these pranks with Remmy and Peter; we called ourselves the Marauders! And every month we’d sneak out into the forest in the middle of the night and run around, pretend to be animals…it sounds stupid, but those were the best days of my life.”_

The Marauder. It was catchy. It paid homage to Sirius and his dad.

Harry smiled. It was perfect.

He would definitely incorporate a dark green colour, then. Harry would look into putting some hardwood flooring, and the counters could run with a similar scheme. The café would also benefit from an accent wall; perhaps if Luna was free from her art projects, she could commission something for him.

When Harry woke up this morning, building a new café from scratch wasn’t on his mind. This was crazy. Maybe it was reckless, using the rest of Sirius’ money for this. It seemed impossible. Improbable. Could this actually work?

It would take a lot of work and probably some help from some old friends...

He had some phone calls to make.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter basically wrote itself. I didn't really know where I was going with it until I finished writing it, sooo... please follow Harry's journey along with me, hahaha. 
> 
> Chapters are also shorter just so I don't take 1000 years to update. Yep. Unbeta'ed.

_Ring ring._

Harry let out a groan and turned over, burrowing further under the covers.

_Ring ring._

_Ring ring._

The ringing stopped, leaving him in blessed silence for a few moments.

 _Ring ring_ –

This better be good. He grappled at his nightstand for his phone and hit the call button. "Hello?"

"Harry!" A higher-pitched voice filtered through the line. "Oh my god, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it! I just passed by the cafe and at first I thought you _sold_ the place or something since I didn't see you, but then I saw Bill and _he_ said you visited the bank and were finally renovating it and that he was overseeing some of the construction! Are you doing this entire project by yourself? Why didn't you _tell_ me? How –"

"Hermione," Harry groaned. "It's so early. Did you really have to call right now?" He fumbled with his thick-framed, rectangular-ish glasses – Ginny had dubbed them ‘hipster glasses’, _“You’re a barista in college. This is so stereotypical; why am I even surprised?”_  – before putting them on. Everything slid into focus, including his alarm clock, which read 7:13am. A long, quiet sigh escaped his lips. 

"I – sorry!" Hermione stumbled, flustered. "I thought you were usually up around now!"

"It's alright, I just had a late night. I was up trying to choose light fixtures, among other things. Renovating the cafe was a decision I only made a few days ago, and it's been so crazy since that I didn't have time to call you about it." Harry yawned. "Sorry 'bout that. You know what, why don't you drop by after work and I'll show you what I have so far. I could use a second opinion." He listened to the sound of affirmation on the other line before saying goodbye and hanging up. 

Ugh. There was no way he was falling back to sleep now, so Harry figured he would head down to the cafe anyway. He turned the coffee maker on in the kitchen, listening to it heat up before making his way into the shower to get ready for the day.

Surprisingly, his advisor at the bank thought his idea wasn't so bad at all and pulled some strings to bring in their best contractor; it just so happened that that person was Bill, Ron's older brother, and he was willing to take it on. He was so productive and efficient that Harry was reeling at how fast his project was progressing. Bill had set a cutthroat timeline to finish the cafe, fueled by Harry's desire to implement his ideas and Bill's already tight schedule. 

Harry didn't like to do things halfway, either. It wasn't until he was negotiating the working contract with Bill that he realized how invested he already was in the project. He was excited with the prospect of designing a place he could call his own. Who needed a job anyway when he could make his own?

Yesterday, they had stripped the entire cafe bare and gutted the small kitchen. If Harry had any second thoughts about the entire ordeal, it was too late to change his mind. Today, Bill was supposed to come in at 6:00am with his team and install the flooring and parts of the walls and put a fresh coat of paint over the entire place. The new counters would show up sometime in the morning and Harry was going to buy the lights that he wanted installed in the afternoon. He would be meeting Luna in the evening to discuss the mural he wanted up as well as the logo. If all went well, The Marauder would be set to open in the next week or so.

Harry pulled on some dark blue jeans and a grey t-shirt. He peered into the mirror and adjusted his black hair slightly – it was a bird's nest as usual, but sometimes if he styled it in just the right way, he managed to make it look more windswept than untidy. 

He filled his coffee mug and snagged an apple from the kitchen counter. Hermione always tried to get him to eat more in university saying that he'd get taller, but Harry had stopped growing at 5'6" and just accepted it. Still, he recognized the importance of at least having something for breakfast. With his keys in his pocket and runners on, Harry shrugged his slim, black bomber jacket on, grabbed his notebook off his desk, and headed out. 

*

The Marauder was a 20-minute walk from his apartment, which could be a refreshing or miserable journey depending on the weather. It was a cooler, overcast day, which made Harry glad he remembered his jacket.

He passed many well-dressed business men and women on the walk over hurrying to work in the morning rush, hands full with briefcases, coffee, and mobile phones. Although they were primarily in a corporate area of downtown, there was a shopping district a few blocks over, which would undoubtedly become busier later on in the morning despite the work crowd. It would work in his favour – he could appeal to both crowds in his location.

Harry had never considered himself a business kind of guy, but he found now that he had started he wanted to be the best. _“You could be great, you know. It’s all here in your head,”_   his academic advisor had proclaimed. He hadn’t believed him then, but now he wanted it to be true.

"Good morning!" Bill greeted Harry cheerfully as he rounded the corner. The eldest Weasley was outside measuring a long, hardwood plank. 

Harry smiled. "Hey, Bill. How's the progress?"

"Great! I'm just getting started on the flooring here. The crew's currently inside putting up that wall that you wanted. It's impressive, but heavy, mate." He gestured through the window, but realized the glass was still too grimy to look through, and instead pushed the door open. "It's a bit hard maneuvering around the outlets and shelving, but we've managed."

Inside, three other men were installing the slate grey stacked stone cladding that Harry had requested. Harry thought it looked rather sophisticated and served well as an accent wall behind the counter. The L-shaped counter itself was already in place, its smooth, walnut countertop the same wood and finish as the hardwood flooring that would be in place by the end of the day. 

"It looks awesome so far!" Harry grinned, flipping his notebook to the sketches he had made. "And you're going to paint the bottom of the counters a light grey, right?"

"Yeah, according to the swatches you gave us. It'll take a few coats to make the far wall white, but it should be good," Bill replied.

"Just enough so Luna has a blank canvas when she starts. We'll figure out something, but I was thinking about something forest-y, at least."

"It's already coming together. I think Sirius would be proud," Bill commented.

Harry's smile softened. "Thanks."

"By the way, mum keeps asking whether you've finally gotten a girlfriend. It's a regular dinner topic every time I drop by."

His smile turned sheepish. "Well, ah – uh..." Harry scratched his head. "I don't know, I just haven't met the right person yet, I guess. Not much time to socialize recently and all, too."

Bill shot Harry a knowing look, causing the younger boy to flush red. "You still haven't told her yet."

"It's not really something you can easily just slip into the conversation," Harry confessed. "Like oh, Mrs. Weasley, please pass the salt. By the way, did you know that I'm gay?" He gestured wildly and then sighed. "I mean, I'm not actually afraid of her reaction. It's just not something that comes up."

"I get what you're saying, but you should still eventually say something," Bill said in amusement. "You're considered a part of the family as much as any of us. Nothing's going to change - mum will probably just keep asking when you're finally getting a boyfriend instead."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I could imagine that."

The eldest Weasley ruffled Harry’s hair.

“Hey, thanks for taking on this project on such short notice. I know it’s a crazy week, and I’m really glad that you’re the one in charge of it.”

“No worries, anytime! Well maybe not anytime, because this is so intensive, but you know what I mean,” Bill snorted. “This is great, though. I’ll get to put this on my resume as the fastest project I have ever completed. Now you’ve just got to do me a favour and make this place a huge hit, and it’ll look extra impressive on paper for me.” He sent Harry a wink and a thumbs up, causing the bespectacled boy to roll his eyes. “Speaking of things that are going to be impressive, where did you want the lights in here? I need to re-run the wires; it’ll be easy since it’s an open ceiling, but it’s always good to know beforehand.”

Harry glanced upwards into the café. Black metal beams ran from one end of the place to the other. “I actually had my eye on these fixtures they’re selling at the new urban warehouse. They’re these bare, round light bulbs encased in silver metal geometric shapes. I think if we just strung a couple in a row over the counter,” Harry flipped to a page in his notebook, where he sketched out the details, “and then one over each table, it would set the right ambiance.”

Bill raised his eyebrows and whistled. “Alright then, just let me know where they’re going to hang down. I’m not going to claim any deep knowledge about aesthetics so you’re going to have to guide me here.”

“Yeah, of course,” he replied.

It was going to be a long day.

 *

Luna was a genius. Absolutely amazing. Brilliant. He would add more adjectives if he could think of them.

“I could kiss you right now,” Harry said in awe, eyes wide and mouth open.

“You should kiss Him instead.” Luna tilted her head, laughter in her eyes. Her messy top bun flopped to the side and her wide billowing sleeves slid back as she brushed some stray blonde strands behind her ear.

“Who?”

“Your next boyfriend,” Luna replied enigmatically. "You're going to get one soon if you open up a café."

Harry waved a dismissive hand in her general direction, eyes still locked on the tentative sketch in front of him. He was used to her vague and sometimes outrageous comments. “This is beautiful. Luna…” Harry breathed, “It’s perfect.”

It was a scene deep in a forest with dark, lush evergreens and the occasional stray beam of moonlight filtering through. A stag stood on the right over a patch of flowers, its head held high, proudly displaying its antlers. A snowy owl was nestled in the branches of one evergreen tree and beneath it a grey wolf sat beside a large, black dog, which without major scrutiny, could easily pass off as a black wolf.

"Hello!" The door was pushed open and Hermione stepped through holding a large plastic bag. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, although some frizzy stray hairs were coming out at the front. She wore a chiffon blue shirt, black pants, and closed-toed shoes today as part of her position. "I brought dinner! Chicken curry with rice - my coworkers were raving about this place, so it's about time we tried it." Her research position at Phoenix Corporation often resulted in long hours, but she never failed to show up with food.

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thanks 'Mione. We've just been discussing the mural. Look around - what do you think of the place so far?"

Hermione did a double take, just noticing the changes. "Oh, Harry...wow! I don't even recognize it anymore!" She put down her bags and walked a full circle around the cafe. "The wood and stone completely transforms it into something else. It's much more of a cozy-modern feel than I was expecting, but it's a good change. The lights are also a nice touch. What's going on the white wall?"

"Luna's going to paint a mural on it - it'll be the crowning jewel of the entire cafe," Harry said. He gestured towards the sketch. "It's a forest scene. Sirius was always known as a 'dog' more than anything else, but we thought a dog would look out of place in the setting, so Luna altered it so it was bigger and more wolf-like. It's the representation of him, though," he said fondly.

His godfather had definitely been a dog in energy, excitability, and loyalty. 

"These trees will take up the entire wall, floor to ceiling, so there won't be any white space left when I'm done with it," Luna explained. "I can start it tomorrow, but it'll definitely take at least the entire weekend to finish."

"It looks wonderful, Luna!" Hermione said warmly. She turned towards Harry. "I heard you contacted Neville to ask if he had any small succulents he could spare for the cafe. You sure know how to network, Harry! You have an amazing support system and I'm glad you're involving all of us in the project. When did you plan to finish this by? It looks like you and Bill already turned this place upside down so quickly."

"Well," Harry began tentatively. "I was hoping for the end of next week..."

"Next week?!" Hermione's voice rose several octaves. "That's insane! Harry, you just started a few days ago!"

"I know it sounds crazy, but Bill and I are scheduled to finish within the next few days. I'm just waiting for my order of tables and chairs to come in, and I still have to purchase the smaller materials and equipment, but otherwise I should be fine. We just have to design our street front sign and logo right now, but I’m pretty set. After everything concrete here is it, I'll only have to worry about the smaller stuff. There were already pretty high-end appliances here for the coffee and I'm already scouting out possible coffee bean brands to work with."

The brown-haired girl stared at Harry for a long time, chewing on her bottom lip. "Well, if you think it's feasible...you know I'm behind you all the way. Ron, too. Honestly, Harry, I don't think I've seen you this passionate about something since you were on the football team in high school. I mean, maybe this is a good thing. Not that it wasn't a good idea in the first place, but this is so much better for you than I originally thought." She perked up. "I was also thinking, because of the old reputation of this place, you should do a soft opening. People could come in and see for themselves the changes and eventually spread the word. I know you're pretty set on the concept right now, but it would also give you the chance to play around with it and tweak it. And if Luna isn't done the mural by then, it would still be okay."

"Yeah, that sounds really good," Harry said. He began removing take-out boxes from the plastic bag. "I know we were talking about it on and off before, but once I started, the ideas just kept coming. It feels good."

Luna hummed, absently following the conversation as she doodled. 

"Ron and I can spread the word with our coworkers. We're all in the area, so it's a good place for them to just drop by on their break if they wanted to. There's a lot of other corporations around here; I'm sure they'll realize a new cafe has opened sooner or later, so you won't have to announce you're opening. If you want to do a grand opening later, that's also an option, at least after you've managed to create a buzz about the cafe."

"Whoa there, 'Mione. What was that about this being insane? It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this already," Harry grinned. "What would I do without you?"

Hermione huffed. "Well of course I have. You'd be equally lost without Luna. Look - she's already designed your entire logo while you weren't paying attention."

"What!?" Harry started, looking over to the paper she was drawing on.

"I made two versions," Luna said pleasantly. She turned the page around so it was facing Harry, _'The Marauder'_ spelled out in elegant, loopy cursive. "One with the stag from the mural, and another with the wolf." On the right of the script, the outline of the aforementioned animals were sketched out and filled in with a solid colour. "I figured you would want the words alone and then a smaller version with the animals for branding."

"That's exactly what I was envisioning!" Harry exclaimed. "You're a goddess!"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, but also agreed with the design.

"If you can digitize this, I can send it to the sign company. I was thinking it would go straight onto the windows in silver foil and black accents for depth. And we could order stamps with the design for the coffee cups and bags!"

Harry's schedule for the upcoming week was intensive; he could already tell this was going to be a long string of late nights and early mornings. But...he could so clearly envision the final result. In a neighbourhood like this, Harry knew that if he played his cards right the cafe had the potential to be incredibly successful. There were only franchise coffee shops nearby - the real estate was so expensive here that it was difficult for other cafes to start up. Harry had the advantage of inheriting it from his godfather. In short, the coffee scene here was Harry's to claim.

 *

In comparison to the hectic week that Harry had slaved through, The Marauder’s opening day was a quiet affair.

He had woken up earlier than usual to throw some blueberry muffins into the oven and brewed a fresh batch of coffee for the morning. With no small amount of trepidation, he propped open the shiny glass doors and placed a sandwich board out on the sidewalk with the words ‘Now open! Come inside and sample our coffee!’ drawn in chalky, angular script on its blackboard surface.

It was only 6:30am on the first day, so Harry wasn’t expecting a crowd or even a person, but there was something about the act of officially opening that made him nervous. He occupied himself with small tasks to dispel his extra energy. Methodically, he went through the motions of making his favourite drink – a latte – folding the steamed milk into one of the forest green coffee mugs embellished with the café name in white and silver cursive. The stack of mugs rested on top of the espresso machine. He took a few sips, nodding in satisfaction at the velvety taste before portioning a muffin into bite-sited pieces to offer as samples by the cash register. A take-away jug in a cardboard carrying box was filled to the brim with medium roast coffee and placed to the side with a stack of white coffee cups and a bag of wooden stir sticks and assorted sugars. After those tasks were completed, Harry busied himself with straightening out the new walnut wood-topped tables and chairs by the windows. Their dark grey metal frames complemented the slate wall, and Harry re-tested each set to make sure they didn’t wobble. Succulents in small black clay pots were centered on the tables, and Harry pressed a finger into the soil to check their water level.

Harry had only just begun to re-sweep the floors when Hermione dropped by. “Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, pausing mid-sweep.

“The floors are already spotless, Harry,” she said knowingly. “Unless you’re trying to sweep the varnish off of them now, too.”

He sheepishly put the broom away.

“Oh, Harry… I know you’re nervous, but you have nothing to worry about! It’ll be just fine. It just takes some time for the word to spread.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t help it,” Harry sighed. He reached over the counter for the take-out jug of coffee. “By the way, here’s the coffee you wanted for your meeting. It should stay hot for another few hours. You should also take some muffins.” Six blueberry muffins were packaged neatly into a white box, _The Marauder_ stamped firmly onto its lid.

“Thank you!” Hermione smiled. “It’s supposed to be two hours of data analysis today, so some of them will definitely need the caffeine kick. I should get going now, but Harry… you should at least turn on the playlist that Ginny sent over, because you could hear a pin drop in here right now. Ron should be dropping by on his break. Good luck!”

He waved as she left and then took her advice and turned on the music player. A jazzy, bossa nova tune began to fill the café. Harry smiled. Ginny seemed to know just what to play.

The mural looked magnificent inside the coffee shop. Smooth strokes of green in many shades swept over the wall, adding depth to the scene it created. Harry thought it brought the entire shop together perfectly. It was everything he wanted in an art piece to display here, and he still could not believe how fast Luna had finished it. Harry was pretty certain she had stayed at the cafe overnight at some point, too, despite him telling her not to. He definitely owed her big time. 

As the morning rush began to pick up he watched many people pass by the windows, sipping his espresso drink from behind the counter. Occasionally, one or two of them would peer inside curiously, eyes attracted to Luna's painting first and foremost; Harry shot them a smile and offered them a piece of blueberry muffin.

By the time Ron came around, Harry had sold five drinks and two muffins – all to business people except for a young female who was in a rush to a job interview. That was a huge success, Harry thought, considering the 500% rise in customers from before the renovation.

“Blimey, Harry! What did you do to this place!?” Ron gaped at him from the doorway. While he had heard of the changes from Hermione, he had been so busy with a new case that visiting hadn’t been an option.

Harry grinned. “Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix.”

“You definitely had to use some kind of voodoo magic to save what Sirius did, mate,” Ron said in awe. “Now it looks like the kinda place snot-nosed Malfoy would go to.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harry said dryly, already beginning to tamper the espresso grounds that would become Ron’s usual extra-syrupy caramel latte. Harry would never understand why Ron enjoyed it so sweet, but he diligently made it for him anyway.

“You’re fucking magical.” Ron generously helped himself to the blueberry muffin samples and continued with his mouth full, “And these muffins are awesome! Between you and me, they taste better than mum’s.” He swallowed. “The team would love these. Could I take some back for them?”

“Yeah, and I have some chocolate cookies coming out of the oven in five minutes, so you might as well take some of those those, too.”

“Yes! Perfect timing!” Ron grinned.

“As perfect as your timing for when break ends?” Harry countered good-naturedly, not taking his eyes off of the drink he was pouring.

The red-haired boy grumbled, “I’m not always late. I just happen to be late a lot…and Mad-Eye’s a slave-driver.”

“Sure,” Harry drawled, rolling his eyes behind his black-framed glasses. He handed the cup over to Ron before wiping his hands on his black half-apron and pushing the slipping sleeves of his black button-up shirt back past his elbows. Pulling out another white box, he began to package the remaining four muffins, leaving a space for the cookies.

In the backroom, Harry donned some oven mitts and pulled the cookies out, poking them and checking the underside for their colour. He placed the hot tray onto the stainless steel table and fanned them a bit so they would cool enough to box. He could hear Ron whistling to the saxophone solo playing over the speakers. He placed half the cookie batch into Ron’s box, leaving the lid open a crack for the heat to escape, and headed back out.

“You put a stamp on everything,” Ron said, gesturing to _The Marauder_ stamped in black ink on the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup accompanied by a grazing stag.

“Everybody’s got to know my name,” Harry replied cheekily. “It’s like free advertising."

“With coffee and snacks like this, they’re definitely gonna.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before Ron headed back to work, box of goodies in hand. Harry personally thought he was going to be late again since he kept delaying his departure, but maybe the offering of food would appease Moody a bit.

 *

It was only early afternoon when Harry pulled his almond croissants out of the oven. He had served a few more customers around lunch, happily talking to them about his new café, but eventually the meager crowd dissipated and he had gotten bored. Harry knew that he shouldn’t make too many pastries since not enough customers were coming in to buy them all, but he wanted to experiment with some recipes and figured that he could give them to someone or donate then if they still sat there by the end of the day.

Harry exited the backroom to find someone standing at the cash register. “Ah – sorry! I didn’t hear you come in!” Harry smiled, rushing over, placing the tray on the counter beside him. He got a good look at the man and almost stumbled, but managed to continue relatively smoothly, “T-thank you for waiting. What can I get for you?”

The first thing Harry noticed was his height. He was tall – taller than Harry, and must have stood at 6’ at the least. The man was wearing a suit so well-fitted that it must’ve been tailored, accompanied by a crisp white shirt and a cobalt blue, double-windsor tie. Black hair framed his pale skin, cut shorter near his nape and parted neatly at the side with a long wave over his fringe. His eyes followed his defined eyebrows, aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and angular jawline, and then back to his hazel eyes, which were just leaving his sleek phone – was it possible for someone’s hands to be so pretty? – to fix on Harry.

Harry prayed he wasn’t blushing. The man was just _so_ good looking, and _gods_ , Harry didn’t think people like this existed outside of magazines.

The man stared at Harry for a moment, before replying, “A macchiato, if you would.” His voice sounded smooth and caramel-y and _oh my god_ , was Harry starting to sound like Ginny when she was lovesick? Eyes flit to the pastries on the side and back. “And a croissant.”

“Yes! Of course.” Harry rang the order through the register before preparing the drink. As the espresso began dripping, Harry started to pour milk into the frothing jug. He chanced a glance at the man and almost dropped the carton in embarrassment when his eyes met the man’s, who was still watching him. Determinedly staring at the espresso machine now, Harry steamed the milk and spooned a dollop of the foamy liquid on top of the shot. It was fortunate that he had ordered a simple drink, as Harry didn't think he would have made any other drink so successfully in his flustered state.

Harry wondered if he worked in the area and if he did, what he did for a living. He looked very polished. The phone he was using was quite noticeable, too; Harry knew it was the newest, state-of-the-art model, because he had seen it debuted over the telly a few weeks back. He had a calm, neutral expression on his face, but Harry thought he also had an intimidating air to him – the kind of man that others would unquestioningly follow.

As the man took his cup and left, Harry let out a long breath and sagged against the counter. He didn’t think it was possible to make a fool out of himself so quickly like that. If his friends knew, he would never hear the end of it. His eyes wandered over to the register where he saw a small paper bag resting on the edge. The man forgot his croissant!

Harry hesitated for only a moment before he grabbed the pastry. "Sir!" He shouted, wrenching the glass door open, looking both ways and spotting the man about to turn the corner before scrambling down the sidewalk after him. "Hey! You forgot your croissant!" Harry exclaimed breathlessly, holding up the brown paper bag.

The man turned around slowly, appearing to examine him carefully before taking the bag. "Thank you." His lips curved into a small smile and Harry's cheeks flushed at the sight. Harry was glad that he had ran over, as the redness on his face from the exertion masked his reaction.

"No problem! I-I hope to see you again soon!" Harry smiled back. He began to head back to work, but turned around a second later to watch the man's retreating figure until it disappeared around the corner. 

Harry would vehemently swear that his heart was racing because of his impromptu run and not because of the man's smile, but a secret part of him wished that he would return soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes, Tom felt all the ambitions that had surfaced in his youth were more trouble than they were worth – not that he was regretting any of his decisions. No, he was just continually vexed by the sheer amount of bureaucracy that came with his job and the endless number of idiots that he had to deal with. 

When he had been 18 years old, Tom had joined Phoenix Corporation and quickly climbed the corporate ladder. The CEO at that time had been Armando Dippet – a man who had adored Tom and taken his ideas into consideration. Dippet had unfortunately passed away a year after he had hired Tom leaving his protégé, Albus Dumbledore, to take the reins of the company. Dumbledore, in contrast to Dippet, held a deep-seated distrust of Tom, and did not allow him any influence on the company vision. Tom had never understood where his distrust had come from; sure, Tom had expressed a determination to leave the poor, miserable roots of the orphanage he grew up in, but he had never treated his peers and superiors with anything less than friendliness. With his opportunity to advance suddenly snuffed by the old man, Tom fully invested time into his own budding company and he had taken his extensive research and near-discoveries along with him.

Starting his business had been challenging due to the many individuals that would scoff at his ideas and ambitions merely because of his age. Well, he had shown them that he far surpassed them in intellect and business prowess. Tom had been famous for his hard work ethic, rigorous schedule, and the unrelenting expectations he imposed on his employees; however, individuals were always drawn to him and stayed because of his charisma, understanding, and lasting impact he made on the medical community.

By the age of 21, he had firmly established himself as a strong and prominent figure in the industry. In fact, everyone in the world was impressed by him…except for Dumbledore. The man had strongly and vocally criticized him for the secrecy surrounding his discoveries and the decision to patent his drugs immediately instead of sharing the ability to manufacture the drug with the pharmaceutical industry. That had made Tom scoff. How would he have made any profit otherwise? Who in the industry _didn’t_ make those same decisions? Tom also brushed off Dumbledore’s ‘disappointment’ at the pricing of his ‘Death Eater’ drug – slightly higher than affordable for the average low-income citizen.

Tom could feel a headache taking root. Resisting the urge to bring his hand up and pinch his nose, he frowned, refocusing his eyes on the suited man standing across from his desk.

“In addition to the board meeting you must schedule, a representative from the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency wants to meet with you next week to discuss a possible funding increase.” Joseph Nott, an older man in his 60’s, served as both Tom’s secretary and advisor. He had seen the potential in Tom when he was only 19 years old and starting the company, and had pledged to help him see his vision through. He was also possibly the only individual at work that was not intimidated by Tom.

“Is there anything else?”

“Lucius would like to go over details for the charity event.”

“Tell him we can deal with that in a few days.”

Nott looked up from his tablet. “The media is pressing for details, and we do need time to properly plan and execute the event.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Very well. Shall I schedule him in for this Friday at 3:00pm?”

Shuffling some paperwork around on his desk, Tom uncovered his phone and flipped to the calendar. “That sounds acceptable.”

“I’ll note it down, then,” Nott said.

“If that is all, I have some business to attend to,” Tom dismissed. He watched as Nott quietly shut the door behind him before massaging his temples.

Their charity event was approaching faster than he had anticipated, but he was out of ideas for what they should do. It was the company’s ten-year anniversary, so the celebration would have to be more grandiose than previous years. This year’s event had to draw the press in. Something unexpected, preferably. _“Like bees to honey,”_ he had emphasized. Not that the media wouldn’t eat up anything he chose to do anyway, but they simply could not be out shadowed by any competitors, nor could they be faced with gossip regarding how their events were beginning to decline.

He had left it to Lucius Malfoy, and the monumental task had made him pale remarkably fast. Tom smirked. It was satisfying reaction, as Lucius had been getting far too comfortable in his position as of late.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that an actual event still had to be chosen. He sighed. It was just another thing on his long to-do list.

Yesterday, he had been so busy that he had forgotten to eat lunch again. The drug development team had wanted to discuss the shape and colour of a new drug they were testing – a tedious conversation that took much longer than it really should have. He had been tempted to snap at them and end the meeting, but his employees had been passionate about the entire thing and Tom knew that happy, productive employees benefited his company more, so he had endured it. The things he sacrificed for them.

Tom had been so stifled by the meeting that he had promptly left the building for a walk afterwards. The cool, autumn air had calmed him down and done wonders to his fraying temper; he was able to take some time to himself without another incompetent fool bursting into his office for advice.

His eyes inadvertently slid over to the empty coffee cup and paper bag sitting on the corner of his desk.

A new café had opened down the street from his workplace – a modern, sophisticated-looking place that he hadn’t seen the week before. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and, deciding that a mid-day caffeine kick was in order, he had gone inside. The darker green and grey theme had appealed to his tastes, but that wasn’t what kept his attention. How he had somehow forgotten the food he had ordered was incomprehensible.

Tom had been distracted by the barista, that much had been obvious, but one individual should not have made him careless. That was ridiculous.

His phone let out a quiet _ding_  and Tom read the notification that appeared.

_11:30am: Marketing Meeting_

He sighed, putting down the forms he had been organizing. Paperwork would have to wait.

*

By the time 5:00pm came around, Tom was absolutely swamped with work. Why did he think working the system was a good idea over just becoming a drug lord?

Tom yawned. Perhaps a coffee was in order.

It just so happened that the new cafe on the block was the perfect location to power through his deadlines. The office may have been peaceful after closing, but it was easy to feel stifled after spending an entire eight hours or more at the same desk. With a caffeine source nearby, large tables, and a warm ambiance, The Marauder was ideal. It also helped that the cafe was so new it wasn't terribly busy as of yet.

He glanced out the large bay windows that graced his private office, watching the evening rush begin on the busy downtown streets. Yes, he definitely needed to leave the building.

Tom took the elevator down to the lobby, acknowledging Bellatrix, the receptionist, before exiting. It was a short walk to The Marauder and Tom heaved a quiet sigh of relief as he stepped out of the bustling traffic and into the café.

The barista from yesterday was still at the counter. He was filling out what appeared to be a package of forms at the register and looked up when Tom approached.

“Good evening!”

“Evening,” Tom nodded in return. “Just a macchiato for here.”

He watched as the barista slid the payment into the register, almost dropping a few coins in the process. A black dress shirt covered his frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his forearms. After giving the young man a once over – which he did not appear to notice due to the intensity that he was counting change with – Tom settled down in an empty seat by the windows.

"Here's your macchiato, sir," the barista said, carefully placing a small green cup onto his table. 

Tom smiled at the barista and noted the light pink that dusted his cheeks as they made eye contact. "Thank you."

"You're welcome! Let me know if you need anything."

He watched as the barista returned to the counter, happily humming along quietly to the jazzy instrumental playing in the background. After a few distracted moments, Tom turned his attention back to the laptop screen in front of him. If he wanted to submit a chemical patent for the company's latest discovery, he would have to look over the tedious paperwork.

*

"Just a heads up that I'll be closing in 15 minutes!"

Tom jerked, his concentration broken. The cafe was closing already? Why so early? The thin hands on his watch read 8:45pm, and it startled Tom to realize that over three hours had passed since he sat down. There was no one else inside. He sighed wearily. The patent was nowhere close to being finished and he hadn't even had the opportunity to brainstorm charity ideas yet or finish all his other tasks.

“Muffin?”

He started for a second time. He must have been more tired than he originally judged if he was taken off guard so easily.

“Sorry!” The barista’s sheepish smile caught Tom’s attention. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I have some extra muffins left over from the day and you looked kind of stressed, so I was just wondering if you’d like one. Free of charge.” The said pastry sat on a plate in his hands. His hesitance must have shown on his face, for the barista added, "they'll end up going into the bin if uneaten. I'd rather you ate it than subject them to that fate."

A pang in his stomach reminded Tom that he had forgotten to eat again. “That would be wonderful, thank you,” he relented. Banana nut – not a bad combination considering Tom’s preferences were further away from the sweet end of the spectrum.

Mood uplifted with the barista’s gesture and food in his stomach, Tom sent his last email and began to pack up his bag.

“Thank you once again,” Tom said, placing the empty plate on the counter.

The barista put away the broom and dustpan he had been using. “It was no problem at all. You looked like you needed it and well… I had extras, so why not? I think I’m making way too much for the amount of traffic I’m getting in here...it is kind of empty half the time.” The green-eyed man laughed in self-deprecation, his eyes on the floor and his hand scratching the crown of his head.

Looking at his vaguely downcast expression, Tom thought that it did not match the man’s previously cheerful disposition. He suddenly felt the need to give the embarrassed man some reassurance. “You just opened recently, did you not? It takes time for word to spread. I would not worry – your coffee and pastries are exceptional. The crowds will come.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “No telling how long that’ll take, but I guess I just need to be patient.” The barista’s face had lit up at his words, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes rose from the floor to make contact with Tom’s. Something in Tom’s gut settled in satisfaction.

"Tom, by the way," he said, shooting the barista a smile and holding his hand out to shake.

“I’m Harry. Nice to meet you,” Harry replied, returning the handshake. _Harry_ , Tom mulled in thought. A common name, yet common was not a word Tom would have used to describe the man.

“It’s definitely not something I thought I’d be doing right out of school,” Harry continued, “but putting together this place has actually been pretty fun!”

Did that mean he built it up from scratch? If it was true, then that was impressive. “Are you responsible for the design of the café, then?"

“Yeah. I majored in it, actually. Couldn’t get a job straight after – employers weren’t inspired by my portfolio, I guess – but all of this can be a part of it now.” Harry laughed. “Honestly, I decided to bring this café back to life and set a really tight deadline for myself. I put the entire thing together in about a week. Call me crazy, I know.”

Tom smirked. “It does take some insanity and diligence for the best accomplishments, I’d say.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Harry grinned.

The two ambled out of the building side by side and paused by the door as Harry locked up for the night.

Outside, the cool, late autumn air seeped into Tom’s blazer. The barista – _Harry_ – had turned out quite an interesting individual. Then again, Tom had never deigned to give anyone attention in the first place if they were merely average. It was surprising that someone who could successfully create a space like this would not have a job prospect out of school, but then again these days the market was bleak for those without a few years of experience. Harry had been smart in finding his own way.

“I must head back to my office; however, I suppose I will be dropping by more frequently to finish some work,” Tom said.

“Thanks for keeping me company while I closed,” Harry replied with a smile. “And for the words of encouragement. I guess I'll see you the next time you come in.”

Tom reciprocated the smile and said goodbye, watching a blush gradually creep over Harry’s face. Whether it was due to the cold or not, he did not know.

…but if Tom thought it was endearing, he did not acknowledge his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me! I sat on this chapter for such a long time because I was unsatisfied with it, but finally I just decided to post it anyway. I'm cringing. Oh well. They're still pretty much strangers, so not much happened. Tom did linger after closing though, haha.
> 
> Writing from Tom's POV is wholly frustrating and difficult, but I hope it turned out alright. It won't be in his POV very often, haha. Emotions, what emotions? Maybe Harry will be able to draw it out of him later...
> 
> Unbeta'ed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise - an update! This chapter was initially supposed to go down a bit differently, but enh. I always feel like I'm rushing all my dialogue, but I just love getting it all out there, haha. My chapters are pretty short, but I think it makes me more likely to not feel overwhelmed, which means I actually update! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> In which Harry's inner monologue is strong and neverending. And Tom is both absentminded at times and attentive. Because I can't decide. Hah.
> 
> Unbeta'ed.

It was mid-afternoon when Luna dropped by. A box was cupped in her hands, wrapped in rainbow-spotted paper and shielded from the rain by her hoodie. Her floppy hair bun was sagging, and bounced with each step she took.

“Harry!” Luna chimed. “Lovely weather today for a walk, don’t you think?” She swept damp, stray hairs behind her ear and shot him a bright smile.

“If you say so,” Harry smiled.

The blonde meandered around the counter and placed the box in front of him. She helped herself to the icing bag Harry had just prepared and made a spiral mound on a plate. “The shop seems to be doing wonderfully,” she said while sticking a cookie on top of her sugary creation. “I brought a gift for you for good luck. They’ll also help keep away the nargles that are starting to creep around.”

Curiosity peaked, Harry eyed the small package. “You really shouldn’t have, Luna. But thank you.” What would Luna consider good luck? He pulled apart the wrapping and opened the box. Was it one of those cats he saw in a lot of restaurants? Or maybe a plant? Harry’s thoughts halted as he caught sight of the gift.

It was a sculpture of a radish. Pinkish-red with small, green leaves at the stem, it was the size of a baseball and fit snugly into the palm of Harry’s hand. That wasn’t the most peculiar part of the gift, though. Wrapped around the radish sculpture was a garland of metal bottle caps in a parody of a Christmas tree. Or something.

“Wow…” The words escaped Harry’s lips unconsciously as he scrambled for something to say. “Luna, this – this is great, thank you. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” A laugh escaped his lips and he shook his head fondly. It was odd, but somehow it suited her. Trust Luna to always surprise him.

“You’re welcome, Harry,” Luna smiled. “I made it myself today. My professor couldn’t take his eyes off it, but I had to inform him he couldn’t keep it because it was for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Thanks,” he grinned. He had so many questions about the clay radish in his hands, but he didn’t voice them. Harry looked between the radish and the forest mural on the wall and tried to reconcile the artistic differences. Some things would remain mysteries, he supposed.

There was an empty space beside the register that would be the perfect location to display it. It would be dubbed the sacred radish. He had already decided.

Luna was dunking her cookie into her icing-mountain; she had acquired the habit from Sirius. He had seen an ad on the telly about a children’s school snack long ago and demanded Harry make mini cookies and icing so he could replicate the experience. Sirius had eaten it for two weeks straight and offered it to his friends every time they came over.

“So, what’s new anyway?” Harry asked as he reclaimed his icing bag to decorate the newest batch of cookies.

Humming, Luna swiped a finger through her icing before replying. “Let’s see. Neville’s still assisting that botany professor. Oh – and Ginny is trying out a new dating app…”

They caught up with each other for a while until the café became too busy and Luna headed back to her studio.

*

When Tom visited the café that evening, he did not immediately greet Harry. Instead, he spent a few seconds in silence eying the radish on the counter before they made eye contact.

“It was a gift. For good luck,” Harry explained. The corners of his lips twitched. Tom was skeptical, Harry was sure. Maybe he’d think Harry was crazy, which would be amusing – but, okay maybe that would be more embarrassing than anything. He’d leave the questionable personality to Luna.

“It’s rather…striking, I suppose,” Tom conceded, though he shot the sculpture one last glance before fully turning his attention back to Harry. “A ristretto, please. Double,” he said, pulling a credit card out of his wallet.

“Whoa - expecting a late night?”

Tom sighed. “Unfortunately.”

Harry rang the order through and then watched as the man settled into the corner of the café before moving over to the espresso machine, his hands on autopilot as he thought.

For the past few days, Tom had arrived at 5:30pm sharp and stayed with his eyes glued to his laptop screen until closing. Tom looked impeccable; he was handsome in a sharp suit and his hair neatly parted to one side, but he seemed more worn down each visit. Harry wasn’t keeping track or paying close attention or anything – of course not, that would be ridiculous – but this was looking like a downhill trend. He must’ve been a pretty successful businessman, Harry figured, given the way that he dressed and the amount of work he seemed to put in every day after hours. That or he was slow and behind on his deadlines, but Harry couldn’t imagine a man with a bearing like that having any issues with work ethic.

As Harry turned and placed the coffee cup on a saucer, his eyes fell on the cheese scones that were baked earlier in the day. Would it be weird if he just gave one to him? Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth. Well, it looked like Tom needed it.

After a few seconds in the microwave, the hot scone and his drink was carried out to Tom’s chosen stake-out location for the night.

Tom barely reacted when Harry set the items down on the corner of his table, so engrossed he was in his work.

A jingle from the door told Harry that another customer had come in and he made his way towards the counter. One customer quickly turned into two, then three and four, and it wasn’t long at all until Harry had a long line of take-out cups waiting to be filled.

*

Rolling his feet back to rest on his heels, Harry stretched out his calf muscles as the door closed behind another customer. Finally, the unexpected evening rush had ended. Harry had no idea where all the people had come from, but the café had emptied just as quickly as it had filled up.

There were two students huddled around a textbook, their highlighted notes strewn all over the table. Further down near Tom a girl was wielding a phone, snapping photos of her coffee. Harry’s brows creased as he watched her readjust the cup and take more photos.

Social media. Now that was something he overlooked.

His eyes slid over to Tom. He was still in the same position frowning at his screen. The scone was almost gone – the last little piece was probably cold by now, but Harry was happy that he ate most of it. The cup of double ristretto, however, was empty, and Harry wasn't all that surprised given the volume of the drink, anyway. 

The two of them hadn’t spoken much over the past few days aside from Tom ordering and them exchanging comments about the weather, but Harry felt drawn to him in a way he couldn’t explain. Tom made Harry feel jittery. Nervous, maybe, but Harry wanted to get to know him. Yesterday, he caught himself anticipating Tom’s arrival in the evening. Harry was certain that this was a Very Bad thing. Still, that didn’t stop Harry from impulsively trying to engage him in conversation today.

Without much thought, Harry’s feet gravitated towards the dark-haired man.

“Did you want a new drink or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Tom replied. “I appreciated the scone though, so thank you.”

“I thought you might be hungry, so no worries,” Harry smiled. His mind raced for something to say. “Err, tough stuff you’re working on?” …And he officially entered the realm of small talk. Fantastic. If his brain could refrain from acting like a high schooler with a crush right now, that would be great, thank you very much.

Nodding, Tom frowned. “There is the expected paperwork, of course, which is usually manageable; however, many projects require attention this week. Above all else, there is a charity event approaching and,” Tom’s lips twisted as if the next words were harder to say, “I cannot think of what the event should be.”

“Oh.” Harry mirrored Tom’s frown. He pulled out the chair across from the man and flopped down. “What about a bar night?” The corners of his lips tugged into a grin at the almost sour look on Tom’s face. “Not your thing?”

“Something less…plebeian, preferably.”

Harry’s eyes rolled upwards as he huffed, “Alright then, your majesty,” although there was no bite in his words. Tom appeared more amused than offended.

“I expect more refined ideas from my vassals,” he drawled. Tom’s hazel eyes regarded Harry – a moment of deliberation that he was not privy to – before he tilted his laptop screen back and turned it towards him. “Perhaps you can bring a new perspective.”

Harry straightened in his seat; suddenly, he felt much more self-conscious than moments before. Was this a test from the almost-stranger? He eagerly leaned forward, eyes skimming up the list. Gala, art auction, sport tournament _– wait._ His eyes froze on the header of the document.

No way. 

“Riddle Technologies?” Harry blurted. Mind running a thousand kilometers, he gawked. Tom worked for Riddle Technologies. Tom from Riddle Technologies. “Wait – _wait_ – does that make you Tom Riddle!?”

“Unless you’d like to enlighten me of any others who share my name.” Tom – _Tom Riddle –_ had an infuriating smirk on his face – or maybe it was only infuriating because Harry’s cheeks was burning and he was _embarrassed_ goddamn it.

“Well, excuse me if Tom is a pretty common name,” Harry sniped back.

Tom’s eyebrow ticked and his smirk sharpened at the comment and Harry just wanted to put his foot in his mouth now because he seemed to have hit a sore spot. Harry preferred the other expression on the man’s face. Gods, did he really just admit that to himself?

“Sorry, it’s just – I wasn’t expecting a big name CEO to be a regular at this place,” Harry admitted, groaning. “Holy hell, this entire time. I need a drink. Not coffee. Maybe alcoholic coffee.” Ginny was going to die laughing when she found out he had the hots for a CEO.

“That seems a bit extreme,” Tom laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I was under the impression that we were getting along just fine.”

“No – yes! We’re talking and everything is perfectly fine and wonderful and -” Harry paused and took a steadying breath, letting out a long exhale. Was he rambling? “Okay. Okay. I’m over it now. Can we just pretend that never happened?”

“You’re welcome to try,” he said, but his eyes told Harry that it wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon. Please no.

“Charity event, then!” Harry voice raised a decibel as he tried to wrestle the conversation back. “What kind of event were you hoping to have?”

"Something grand. As you may or may not know, this year is our 10-year anniversary. It _will_ be a memorable event. As we held a gala last year, I’d like to stray away from repeating it. Ideally, it should also trump whatever function Phoenix Corporation is planning. I don't particularly enjoy charity events, but it's good for publicity and that is good for business.”

There was no way Tom organized all of that for almost a decade while not enjoying any of it. Harry didn’t believe it. Somewhere behind that all-business demeanor, Harry knew he cared at least a little. 'Good for business' or not, Tom could have garnered attention in many other ways that didn't involve charities and would have still been just as successful. Still, he could work with it.

"Okay, so let's say you're looking for some good publicity, then. What does the media like? What do they want to see?" Harry asked.

"They like to sensationalize things.”

“That’s good! Well, not good, but good for us! Anything else?”

Tom twisted the leather watch on his wrist and hummed. “They like a story. Something unconventional. A charity ball would blow over well with them, but it would only keep the reputation of the company, not raise it. Any publicity gained from it would die quickly after the event ended. I need something that would capture their attention and keep them talking.”

"Well...what if you did something more hands-on?" He chewed on his bottom lip. "Like yeah, okay, a charity gala was super impressive and all and you probably raised a ton of money, but wouldn't it look even better if you personally went down to somewhere in the community and helped out? That would attract a lot of attention, right?” Fingertips drummed a rhythm on the walnut table. The idea gained traction. “A modern-day hero, coming down to take care of the common masses," Harry ended with a flourish. "They would soak that up!"

Tom eyed him incredulously.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! You know what I mean. Okay - take Batman, for example. He goes out into the city and rescues people by defeating evil with his bare hands, and people love him for it! Or -"

"-are you really using a fictional character as an example-"

"-the Prime Minister!" Harry interjected loudly. "How does he get the people to love him? He visits all the cities and towns and talks to them personally. And he gets votes like that. Not that you're trying to be the Prime Minister, but I'm just saying, a news report titled _'CEO of Riddle Technologies Visits Orphanage to Donate New Books'_ or something would be pretty enticing!"

There was a long silence where Harry was afraid he might have stepped over some invisible line. Tom pursed his lips. "An orphanage...that idea has merit. I see what you are saying, as tedious as that would be..."

Harry beamed. 

“While it would create an impressive headline,” Tom said, “it may not be a fully satisfying experience for any of my shareholders or other potential sponsors.”

“What about brunch?” Harry thought quickly. “An official, fancy brunch, followed by whatever orphanage-related charity event you want.”

“Yes, that could work.” Tom lapsed back into silence, mulling it over.

Harry imagined he was running through the logistics of it all, if he was seriously considering Harry’s idea. And did he really manage to come up with that in one sitting? Wow. Miracles do happen.

The laptop in front of him was spun back around. "Of course, if I must suffer through this ridiculousness then you will as well, considering this was your idea."

“What!? Hold on – I never agreed to this!” Harry gaped, staring at the smirk forming on Tom’s mouth from over the edge of the computer.

Tom’s eyes locked onto Harry’s green ones across the table. He leaned over the screen, bringing himself slightly closer. “You are impressive,” he murmured, “and you will see your idea through.”

“– Excuse me.” Before Harry could protest, his attention was diverted by one of the students in the café. “Could I get another dark roast?”

“Sure, of course!” Ignoring the heat in his face, Harry ran a hand through his hair and pushed his sleeves up. He exhaled. “Let me get that for you right now.”

When he finished and turned around, Tom had his things packed away and was immersed in deep conversation with someone over the phone. He sent Harry a little wave goodbye, to which Harry replied with a cutting motion across his neck with his hand. It wasn’t very effective, as Tom had already turned away. Tom Riddle.

Harry watched him go.

He flicked a bottlecap on the sacred radish. “This is all your fault, Luna.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaannnd somehow I'm back again! I hope you enjoy random characters popping into the story every now and then. They just seem to write themselves into each chapter. There's so. Much. Dialogue. What else do you do in a coffee shop? Drink and make conversation. Rinse and repeat. ;)
> 
> The persuasion strengthens. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed.

One pot of the medium roast would probably be sufficient for the morning, Harry thought as he measured out the grinds.

He was expecting it to be a pretty slow morning – days like today always were, although he never knew why.

There was an order today, too – one to-go jug of coffee and a dozen double chocolate fudge cookies. Those cookies were in the oven at the moment; Harry wanted time to redo them if they turned out bad. He hadn’t tried the recipe before, but the caller had specifically requested them and Harry had told him that he’d try. He’d probably have to brew another pot for it, too, because it was best if it arrived wherever it was going fresh and aromatic.

After getting the coffee going, Harry went to check on the cookies, only to scramble out of the backroom as his phone began ringing, playing some ridiculous top 40’s tune that Ginny insisted he set her personal ringtone to.

“Hello?”

“Harry!” Ginny’s voice exclaimed from the other end of the line. “How’s the café so far? I figured I’d call since I haven’t had time to come in!”

He swept some stray coffee grounds off the counter and into the rubbish bin. “You know I’m working right now, right?”

“Well you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?”

This was so typical of her, he thought, but he had to acquiesce that yes, she had a point. Harry balanced the phone between his head and shoulder, bringing it with him into the backroom. “It’s been great, thanks. A little slow, but it’s picking up a bit.”

A triumphant noise came through the line. “That’s good to hear. When Ron first told me what you were doing, I thought you had finally gone ‘round the bend… Good to know I’m proven right.”

“It’s too early for me to deal with your attitude right now,” Harry complained.

“You say that every time!”

“It’s because it’s true. It’ll always be too early.” He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards. A flick of a switch illuminated the tray in the oven and showed him that the cookies appeared to be forming well. He pulled them out and inspected the colour; it looked like they would be done in a minute or so.

“Still not true. You _love_ it,” Ginny almost sang. “How are the customers?”

“Early mornings are mostly business people. I mean, I get some people later on, but not much. Around lunch, I get some of them on their break and then sometimes a few order requests for meetings – mostly from Ron and Hermione’s jobs since I gave them free samples and stuff. Evenings are students and others getting some work done. Well –“ evenings were mostly Tom “– yeah.”

“Hmm?”

“No, it’s nothing.” The last thing he wanted was for Ginny to get on his case about a guy Harry happened to talk to sparingly at the café. A guy who also happened to be incredibly attractive, in his opinion (and probably the opinion of everyone else, if he was more honest with himself), but that was a minor detail. He also _happened_ to be Tom Riddle, CEO of Riddle Technologies, but – like he said – minor details. He diverted the topic. “Thanks for the playlist, by the way. The jazz really changes the vibe here. I’m not gonna lie though; when it’s this early in the morning and nobody’s here, it makes me a bit sleepy.”

“It makes your café classy. That’s especially necessary to counter Ron’s presence.”

They both laughed. Harry probably should have defended Ron as his best mate and all, but they both knew he could be a disaster at times.

“Okay well, add some sing-able songs to it. The classics or something. Ballads!”

“Gotcha, I’ll do that tonight. If you find anything weird, though – like Jurassic Park weird – then that’s totally from Fred and George and not me.”

“Noted,” Harry grinned, finally pulling out the cookies to cool on the counter. He headed to the front and flipped the sign to ‘Open’. “You can tell them that if I hear anything like that in my café, they can expect to wake up in the middle of the night to their wonderful dinosaur soundtrack blasting in their ears. I can definitely arrange it.”

“That’s tempting – I almost want them to try it, now.”

“Please, no.”

“No guarantees! They’ve just been so -”

Harry saw someone entering through the door from his peripheral vision and turned, only to balk when he realized it was Tom. “Err – Ginny, a customer’s here. I gotta go,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Wait, Harry –“

“Bye!” He ended the call abruptly. His eyes flickered to the clock above the door before meeting Tom’s gaze. The CEO had only visited in the afternoons and evenings before and he hadn’t stopped by yesterday, either. What was he doing here this early? Coffee, obviously, Harry thought. It was still too early for him to think rational thoughts. “Tom!” Harry called out from behind the counter. “What can I get for you to drink today?”

Tom’s lips curved upwards as he looked up from his phone. He was dressed in a blue suit again today, Harry noticed. The faint pinstripes were a nice touch.

“A macchiato is fine.” The CEO leaned against the register. As usual, his eyes followed Harry as he went through the motions at the espresso machine.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. Harry was still hyperaware of his presence, but was at least leagues calmer than the first few times Tom had visited.

Without preamble, Tom said, “I’ve determined that a local orphanage would be the best.”

“That sounds good. It’ll be a positive change in the neighbourhood.”

Tom hummed in agreement.

“Isn’t there one a little ways away, too? Something about an animal, maybe. Like a sheep?”

A wry grin formed on Tom’s face. “Wool’s Orphanage?”

“Yes! That one! I was close,” Harry laughed. He lifted the milk jug he had been pouring as if toasting Tom with it. “Brilliant. Are you considering that one?”

“Ideally, yes. The entire orphanage requires remodeling. All the furniture and appliances are severely outdated, and I suspect some are even harbouring mould. There are plumbing issues, leakages, even mice...” Tom appeared lost in thought. “Not only would it pull at more heartstrings to invest in a community project this large, but it would also be easier for you to visit and contribute.”

The frothing wand sputtered and sprayed warm milk foam at Harry’s face as his hands faltered. “What?!” He turned the knob off and set everything down. “I said I wasn’t going to be involved in this.”

“I suspected as much,” he replied.

Harry huffed, turning around to find a tea towel to wipe his glasses with. He felt his phone slide out of his back pocket before he realized that Tom had somehow made his way around the counter.

“Hey-!” Harry yelped and tried to snatch the phone back.

Tom maneuvered out of the way in one smooth motion. “What’s your passcode?” Tom asked nonchalantly.

“I’m not going to – give it back!”

Tom held it above his head, out of Harry’s reach. The barista jumped, but grabbed air when Tom shifted. “Hum. You’re shorter than I thought.”

“If this is your way of trying to convince me to –“

 “Harry.” Tom levelled him with a piercing stare. “Are you saying you don’t want to help out those,” Tom paused, a slight grimace on his lips before it disappeared, “poor, orphaned children at Wool’s?”

The words circled Harry’s mind for half a second before his jaw dropped. Nope. He was not doing this. Tom was not –

“They have few resources to support their growth, let alone their education in that squalid building. The perfect conditions to dissect the claim of nature versus nurture, really. I suppose you just want to leave them there in their misery,” Tom drawled, “in the dark, dilapidated conditions of that hovel. You’ll just spend the rest of your life regretting your decision, wondering if you really could have made a difference.”

\- he was. He was being guilt-tripped, Harry thought incredulously, by Tom Riddle, of all people. This wasn’t subtle manipulation. This was blatant emotional targeting. The worst part was that it was working. How could he step aside and _not_ help when he had the chance to? Orphanages were always so underfunded and filled with so many children. Uncle Vernon had always threatened to send him there when he was younger. Just the thought of anyone living there and being raised in any way like Uncle Vernon had mentioned left a bad taste in his mouth. And that was the reason why Harry had suggested orphanages to Tom in the first place. So only one question remained: how could he not?

But at the same time – “But what do I get out of this?” Harry asked.

“The joy and gratification that comes with helping the suffering and the needy,” Tom said, and Harry couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be sarcastic or not.

Harry frowned. “I would love to help any day for the kids, but this is a huge project. Why should I invest my time in this when I have this shop to run?”

The older man paused, reappraising Harry. There was a delighted gleam in his eyes when Tom spoke next. “I’m sure I do not need to emphasize how large my organization is, because you already know. Having a such a high-profile, influential event on your portfolio could only elevate it. It is quite a beneficial opportunity.” Tom rolled Harry’s phone between his hands before continuing. “I took the liberty of checking your academic history. A year-round dorm resident and part-time barista at a campus haunt. Weekly volunteer at a nearby child-care center. Respectable, above-average marks. You would have graduated with honours if not for a sub-par grade on your capstone project. Surprising, really, considering the praise from your previous professors…” Tom trailed off.

Taken aback, Harry furrowed his brows. “How do you know all of this?” It was a sore spot for him. He had missed out on job offers because of it, but university policy at that time had left little room for an appeal of his mark. Professor Umbridge had made sure of that. Having it all repeated out loud by someone so successful…well, it stung to Harry.

“It certainly isn’t hidden information; these things are easy to find if you know where to look. But, Harry,” Tom leaned in closer, “I saw that final project of yours. A harmonious amalgamation of aesthetics and functionality.” He smirked. “It’s obvious that your professor could not see greatness if it whipped her across the face.”

Face flushed, Harry didn’t really know what to say. He was flattered, but on the other hand, also startled at how easily Tom had acquired information on him. He decided to settle for flattered, reasoning that a CEO must just know how to find these things.

The man was now casually leaning against the counter, Harry’s phone still held loosely in his hands. Harry didn’t have the energy to snatch it back.

“Um,” Harry floundered, “well, thank you.”

“Of course, Harry. Now, I see three facets to your participation here. The first: it’s clear that you care for children, and contributing to my charity event is a sure way of making an impact on their lives. The second is an opportunity to add this to your portfolio, for obvious reasons. Finally, I can see that you were never recognized for your work, but that can change. We can do extraordinary things, Harry. Together, this charity event – why not?”

To be honest, Harry didn’t know why he was so reluctant, either. There were so many reasons to say yes and no reasons to say no. Tom was the crème de la crème of the business world and Harry knew by association alone, he could benefit. Tom had seemed to elevate Harry beyond where he felt he deserved, like he was some successful designer that could work magic, but Harry didn’t feel that way. Maybe he was worried that Tom would change his mind about Harry’s skills, Harry reflected in growing misery. What if he sucked? He stifled that thought and worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Fine.” Who was he kidding? He was going to say yes anyway. Harry was just bitter at how little convincing it took.

A victorious smirk grew on Tom’s aristocratic face, but he didn’t comment on Harry’s decision. He held Harry’s phone up. “I’m still waiting for your passcode.”

Harry let out a whooshing breath – somewhere between a sigh and a silent prayer – and punched in the numbers. Moments later, Tom’s contact information was stored on his phone, and Harry’s details were on Tom’s.

“My public relations manager will be here in a few minutes.”

“So soon?”

“While I was at the office, I told him to come here to discuss the details with you,” Tom said, nonchalant.

Harry stilled. “At the office?” He felt an overwhelming need to punch Tom. Maybe that would remove the smug expression off his face. He had already known. Tom knew already, and now he knew that Harry knew, and – “I can’t believe you just _assumed_ that I was going to do this.”

Tom pushed himself off the counter and stood in front of Harry. “But I was correct,” he murmured, smirk permanently affixed to his stupidly handsome face. “Yesterday, I told you that you would be involved in this. I have no plans to go back on that.”

Not one to be cornered for long, Harry took a daring step closer. His mouth was moving faster than his mind. “If I’m going to be involved in this, we’re going to do it exactly the way I want to. I don’t know what kind of things you want to do to cater to the public, but some things are going to be non-negotiable. _Especially_ if they’re for the kids.”

Tom’s eyes were dark in this light, a pool of black coffee. His expression morphed into a deep satisfaction instead of the offense Harry thought he would have taken at his demands. “Of course. I’m not unreasonable.”

This close, Harry could smell his cologne and see the stitched detailing on his pinstripe suit. Following the vertical lines up to his head, Harry’s gaze travelled past his jawline, his lips, nose, and locked with Tom’s. He took a steadying breath. Tom was just so -

A noise made Harry’s head turn towards the door.

“Ah, Lucius. Early as usual, I see,” Tom said, stepping away from Harry.

Crossing the threshold, the entering man had long, straight hair that pooled across the shoulders of his dark grey suit. He held a black cane that he tapped on the floor as he scanned the café interior with a critical eye. “Yes, sir. You mentioned that we would discuss the event here? I brought the relevant papers.”

“Good,” Tom said. He gestured to Harry, who was still standing beside him. “This is Harry. He will be going over the particulars for the room designs with you.”

Lucius appeared to size him up and eyed him distastefully. “Pleasure.” Harry was affronted at the unspoken snub. The blond then turned back to his boss. “A barista, sir? Are you certain that he will be in charge of this portion?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning me, Lucius?”

“No,” Lucius backpedaled. He looked around the empty café. “I just don't see what this...simple coffee maker can do to benefit the event," Lucius sneered, his upper lip curling. "It's an unskilled job. What can he really add that we can't?"

"This 'simple coffee maker' can easily make your life a living hell, so you better lay off or you're gonna regret it," Harry shot back, no longer willing to stand in silence at the man’s attitude.

The blond gave Harry the side-eye. "How plebeian. I already regret meeting you."

He bristled. "You better watch what you drink from now on," Harry hissed. "You never know when my 'unskilled' hands might just...slip something in by accident."

"As amusing as that would be, Harry, he _is_ responsible for this event, so play nice," Tom chastised, cutting into the conversation before it could escalate further. "And Lucius, for the record, Harry owns the cafe, designed it himself, and runs it all on his own. If you believe yourself individually capable of all those aspects at once, then by all means continue to call him a simple coffee maker."

Lucius bit back his retort. "Yes, sir."

Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

“Now that we’ve reconciled our differences –“ the comment was accompanied by a sniff from Lucius and a snort from Harry, which Tom ignored, “- let’s discuss the details. Lucius is in charge of the brunch with his wife, although he will be overseeing the orphanage repairs. He is also handling all public affairs concerning the event.”

Realizing he had left Tom’s drink half-made while they had been talking, Harry began to make it again. “What exactly do you need from me?”

“I want you to redesign the entire orphanage. That includes everything from the rooms, to the kitchens, offices, and other spaces in the building. I can provide you with a copy of the blueprints, and you are free to knock down walls as you see fit, provided that they are not holding the building up.”

He let out a long exhale. “That’s… that’s a huge undertaking. What’s my timeline?”

“The public will be expecting something in approximately two month’s time,” Lucius said. “However, we know this is an unrealistic time constraint to plan and remodel it within that timeframe. We are looking at holding the brunch at that time and unveiling the design plans there. From then on, we can collect more funds for the orphanage and hold an open house later when the project is complete.”

Two months didn’t sound too unrealistic, Harry thought. He had managed to complete the café in less than two weeks, after all. Then again, Hermione had thought he was crazy. Also, the café was small and was practically the equivalent of a room in the orphanage. Who knew how many rooms he’d have to renovate? They would probably also need time to just fix all the things already there, like the leaks and mould that Tom had mentioned earlier.

Harry spooned some milk foam over the espresso shot and slid it over to Tom, who took it with an absent hum. “Have you decided on a budget, then?”

“There is none. Just get it done, and get it done _well_ ,” Lucius said, emphasizing his last words. “And don’t take this as a green light to fulfill whatever middle-class barista spending urges you might have.”

“Don’t insult me,” Harry said with an eye roll. “I won’t need a ridiculous budget to successfully turn this place around.” Harry didn’t feel cocky, but there was no way he was going to show any signs of weakness around the man at this point. With Tom’s eyes on him, Harry felt the need to measure up.

Great mark on his capstone project or not (how he hoped everything Professor Umbridge ate turned to ash in her mouth), Harry had birthed _The Marauder_ , and he would say it was doing quite well so far.  

Speaking of which, why was the café empty? The morning rush had already passed. Voicing the question aloud, he received an exasperating reply.

“I must have turned the sign around. Sorry,” Tom said, not sounding apologetic at all.

 *

“Hey, it’s Barty. I’m here to pick up my order for 1:00pm! It’s the coffee and chocolate fudge cookies,” an almost lanky-looking man with sandy brown hair waved at Harry.

“Afternoon,” Harry replied. “You’re actually just in time.” He looped a silky green and gold ribbon around the box of cookies, tying it into a large bow at the very top. “Is this for a meeting?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Everyone at the meeting is having a pretty crap day, so I figured we’d need coffee. Snacks, too.”

“I have the best remedy here for you, then,” Harry laughed. He tucked a few business cards under the bow and handed the box over with the large container of coffee and extra cups. “This cup here on top is filled with sugar packets, and this one is half-filled with cream, so be careful. I wedged the stir sticks on the side with the napkins. Are you from a building around here?”

The man appeared to straighten his back and puff out his chest. “I’m from Riddle Technologies! Their research department.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Funny thing – the CEO actually recommended this place – put up a note in the lunch room saying that we should all try sating our caffeine fixes here this week. I never saw him putting up any signs before, so it got me curious,” he said, a reverent expression on his face.

“Oh, wow!” Harry raised his brows, privately pleased. “Well I hope I can meet your expectations.”

“Looking around here, I’m sure you will!”

Harry waved goodbye to the customer until he disappeared around the corner.

A recommendation. He could feel a small, unrelenting grin forming.


End file.
